


Memories

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [13]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, Bigotry & Prejudice, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Physical Abuse, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look at me," Loki orders, nicely, voice soft and gentle.  "Not that you didn't make mistakes, of course - you did; we both did, and we certainly both know it.  But don't blame yourself for me."</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to Bridges and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Therapy stirs up a lot. So does life.

"So...," Thor asks, more than a little nervous about what he might hear, sure, but still curious enough to broach the subject anyway, "tell me... when's the first time you ever had sex?"

Loki looks up from where he's yet again picking at his worn black nail polish. The expression on his face is- it's strange. "Sex-sex," he asks? "As in actual fucking, with an actual 'nother person? That kind of sex?"

Thor nods, laughing a little at his brother's choice of phrasing. "Yes, baby, that kind of sex."

Loki bites his lip. "In that case, you should know... you were there."

"Seriously?" It comes out all wrong. "I mean- is that even true," he tries instead, which is orders of magnitude worse. "I'm just surprised," Thor says in the end, giving up entirely. "I never realized that."

"Obviously," Loki retorts, smirking. "Which I suppose I could take as a compliment, except for the part where you were way too drunk to be any judge of prowess anyway."

"Yeah, because you were stone cold sober," Thor reminds his brother. If memory serves, between them they had drunk so much of Odin’s best _liquid courage_ that day that they’d spent most of the next 24 hours by turns holding one another’s hair out of harm’s way and brutally puking. "I'm surprised you even remember."

"I don't black out all that much, relatively speaking," Loki tells him. "Plus, that was a big day for me. I'd won, you see. I knew once you got a taste of me you were mine forever." He laughs, not pleasantly. "Or at least that's the story I told myself at 18."

Thor smiles. "Well, then, it sounds like you were smarter than you knew. Back in the day, I mean."

"Trust me," Loki says, "it wasn’t that. I never, ever doubted how smart I was. Am," he adds. "Not even once."

 _And if only you'd done something with all that brainpower beyond making yourself utterly fucking miserable,_ Thor doesn't grumble. "That's okay;" he teases instead, because he doesn’t want to sound genuinely critical. "I, on the other hand, never doubted your singularly-impressive lack of modesty. Why me," he goes on, serious now, after a minute or two of silence. "You were so goddamned hot," he adds, reverently. "You could have had anyone."

Loki looks away. "You were everything I ever wanted. I needed to see," he adds very quietly, "if I had it in me to be what it took to- well, to be the same, I guess. To you. _For_ you."

"Oh, you did. You do. I was just stupid, then - stupid and afraid and so, so in denial." He wasted so much time and energy pretending Loki... no, it wasn't even about Loki. Pretending that he - himself, the Mighty Thor - was somehow _normal_. Whatever the fuck that even meant. Means.

And then he has an awful, awful thought, one he's been burying deep for-fucking-ever: "Wait. Could I- could the rest of what happened been avoided if- if I'd only been able to accept it all then? Originally?"

He chokes up on that last part.

Loki reaches out and carefully, carefully takes his hand. "No. Of course not. I really was crazy. Am crazy, for that matter. You do know that, right? That you weren't what made me that way? This way," Loki amends, and Thor badly wants to shush his brother. He settles instead for shrugging. "Look at me," Loki orders, nicely, voice still soft and gentle. "Not that you didn't make mistakes, of course - you did; we both did, and we certainly both know it. But don't blame yourself for me." 

Thor makes himself tolerate it, without flinching, as Loki carefully studies his face. For a few seconds he thinks his brother is going to- what, exactly? Cry? But then the moment passes and Loki just smiles. "What brought all that up to start with?"

"Oh, I" - Thor almost says _don't know_ but that isn't true - "guess all this talking- this _work_ with Ginny has me thinking about the old days."

"The good old days," Loki says false-brightly.

"Yeah, not so much," Thor responds. They both smile this time.

~

“What _is_ that,” Thor demands, even though he knows the answer. Knows it so thoroughly he’s sick from the very thought of it.

“It’s a box of razor blades,” Loki points out icily. “They’re for cutting things. Scraping things. They’re very handy. You should try them.”

 _Yes, smartass,_ he wants to say, _you think you’re so damned funny, don’t you?_ The words stick in his throat. “Where did you get it,” he blurts out instead.

“Wow, this is one of your dumb days, is it?” Loki has been in one of those moods all day – all week, really, ever since the fight at day treatment left him with a black eye he can’t really adequately explain away – and it’s doing nothing to ease Thor’s fears. “They have these cool places called _stores._ They’re everywhere. They sell things. Like boxes of razor blades. It’s amazing.”

Thor sighs, frustrated. “You know what I mean.”

“What,” Loki challenges. “Suicidal Boy isn’t supposed to be playing with the sharp toys? Is that it? I’m not under motherfucking lockdown, you know.”

 _Don’t bite, don’t bite. Just let it go._ “Loki,” Thor says, as patiently as he can, “I’m trying hard not to jump to conclusions. Really, I am. But you’re acting a little _off_ and you won’t tell me why… like it or not, that- let’s just say it isn’t exactly reassuring. What’s wrong,” he adds when his brother’s face twists with something that smacks of real pain. “Please? You can tell me.” He carefully doesn’t add _I love you,_ because these are the times Loki throws sentiment back in his face. He’s not up to it just now. Not yet, not so soon after coming into the kitchen and seeing _those things_ resting – right there - in the pale pink palm of his brother’s hand.

Loki takes one razor blade out of the neat plastic case, fumbling it a little with his casted hand, and carefully peels away the protective cardboard. He holds the blade up to the light, squinting along the edge. “I could end it all with this,” he says, and Thor’s stomach lurches. “It’s just a weird thing, you know,” he goes on, voice softening, “knowing something so tiny is so deadly.” He sighs, loudly. “But I guess pills are even tinier, then, aren’t they?”

“ _Fuck,_ Loki,” Thor breathes. He feels abruptly lightheaded, like all of the oxygen in the room has been sucked out. “Do I need to call someone for you? Baby?”

His brother’s face crumples. The blade falls to the counter and then the floor, clattering faintly. “No,” he says. “I’m not going to do anything. I swear. I’m just- I’m in a bad place. I’m thinking too much.”

Thor takes a couple of deep breaths, wishing like hell he could calm down. One of them needs to be strong for this. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Loki buries his face in both hands. “A backrub,” he suggests, voice muffled. It’s such a silly, unexpected thing that Thor can’t help a nervous giggle.

“Gladly,” he says, meaning it completely. “But can I put that razor blade away first? I don’t want to step on it in the morning.” It’s not untrue. Incomplete, yes, but not untrue. In reality he wants to lock the whole fucking box in the safe.

Loki laughs, harshly. It’s like nails on a chalkboard. “Sure, whatever you want. Whatever you can do to save the poor old psycho from himself.”

 _It’s not about that,_ Thor starts to say, but it kind of is. He lets it all go. “I love you,” he says, finally, not caring anymore; even if it gets thrown back in his face, he wants it said. Needs it said. He bends to pick the blade up and lays it carefully on the counter. “There. Still want that backrub?”

“Yes. Please.”

Thor reaches out and traces a finger lightly over his brother’s bruised face. “I hate it that someone hit you.” He leans in and kisses Loki’s cheek. “I just hate it.”

Loki sidles closer and rests his forehead on Thor’s shoulder. “If it helps any, I had it coming.”

He pulls his brother close, carefully, one big hand stroking gently up and down Loki’s back. “No, baby, it doesn’t help. It doesn’t help at all.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki explains a little more than he means to.

"That certainly looks like it must have hurt," Dr. Ginny says, wincing in sympathy, at the sight of Loki's fading shiner.

"It goes nicely with my cast," Loki offers, grinning. He holds up his arm against his face, green against yellow-green-brown. "I kneed a guy in the nuts in day treatment," he explains. Thor hasn't heard this before. "Apparently he didn't like it, because he clocked me."

She opens her portfolio and flips to a fresh, blank page. "Can you tell me why you kneed him," she asks.

Loki sneaks a quick peek at Thor, then looks at the floor. "I'd rather not."

The doctor frowns slightly. "I can ask Thor to step out for a few minutes if you would rather discuss it in private," she suggests.

Loki shakes his head. "I guess we're all here to talk about the hard stuff anyway, aren't we." He sounds tired. Defeated. Thor wants to protect him - to tell her not to push it, to let the whole thing be – but… see: rules. This is probably one of those times when butting in isn't going to be welcome.

"Take the time you need," Dr. Ginny gently encourages Loki when no explanation is immediately forthcoming.

"He called me a fag a few days ago," Loki starts in after a few long, shaky breaths. "I'm pretty used to that - and it's not like it isn't _true_ , now, is it? - so I let it go." He stops to breathe again. "Maybe I should have told someone. We're not supposed to be disrespectful to one another, you know? But it seemed like a little thing."

"What happened after that," she prompts, mildly.

Loki swallows. He's still looking at the floor. And he’s basically hugging himself, both arms wrapped around his thin torso, as best he can manage given the cast. Thor has to sit on his own hands to avoid reaching out to his brother. "He's in group with me. I mentioned something about turning tricks" - _at least he's not being sarcastic about it this time,_ Thor tells himself, mostly to avoid having to think about exactly what his brother _does_ mean - "and... well; on the next break he cornered me in the bathroom, up against the sinks, and tried to- I'm not sure, really."

The doctor gestures _continue_ ; Loki hugs himself more tightly. "He said a few things about teaching me a lesson and went straight for my fly." He looks up, finally. "I'm crippled right now, so I couldn't go the manly route," he says, half-smiling. "So I kneed him. Like a fucking pansy."

Thor can hardly believe his ears. "But you said-," he starts in, stopping himself when the doctor looks at him. "Sorry. Not my turn. I know."

"Thank you," she says, and she almost sounds pleased. "And did you report this," she asks Loki, setting her pencil down. “This second encounter,” she clarifies.

"Well, yeah, we kind of had to," he says, sounding rueful. "When we came back from break he was hobbling like a bull rider fresh from the rodeo and I was bleeding."

"I can imagine. What did you tell your leader," she asks, polite and calm and all the things Thor can't even imagine being. Not when he's practically climbing out of his fucking skin.

Loki shrugs, letting his hands drop back into his lap. "That we got into a fight." He slides down, legs splayed and head against the pillows. "We got in trouble."

"And did you feel like that was fair?"

Loki makes a funny little sound. "Of course. It _was_ fair. We know we're not supposed to fight. _I_ know I'm not supposed to fight."

Ginny turns her portfolio sideways across her lap and leans forward, elbows on knees and chin resting on one hand. "Do you realize that it's not okay for someone to treat you that way?"

Thor bites the inside of his cheek hard, tasting blood.

His brother shrugs. "Why shouldn't he hit me when I attacked him first? Besides the whole _no fighting_ business, I mean."

"Well, I certainly don't normally condone violence," she says, still leaning in, "but I do have to disagree with something you're saying here." When Loki doesn't interrupt, doesn’t argue, she goes on. "From what you're telling me, this man attacked _you_ first: verbally, and then by pushing you against the sinks and making as if to unfasten your pants. Those things are not okay."

For the first time in this session Loki bristles. "Look, you've heard my impressive resume: criminal, addict, whore. And that's just the highlight reel. I lost my right to protest a little pushing around a long, long time ago."

The doctor holds up her free hand as Thor opens his mouth. "Do you think you're a bad person, Loki?"

“Think it,” Loki asks, voice hard. “No, I don’t think it. I _know_ it.”

Thor can feel the hot tears welling up, his throat closing. He’s so frustrated and so sad and he needs to fucking say something. He can’t just sit and listen to this. He can’t. But as he opens his mouth, Dr. Ginny holds up her hand again.

“Do you believe-,” she starts. “No, that’s not really what I meant to ask. Do you make a distinction,” she asks instead, “between people who do bad things and bad people?”

His brother nods curtly. “Yes, most of the time. Although some people are both.”

“And what if I told you I think you’re a good person who’s done bad things,” she asks.

Loki snorts. “I’d tell _you_ you don’t know me very well.”

She straightens. “Thor, do you think your brother is a bad person?”

“Of course not,” he exclaims, a lot louder than he means to. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he offers as politely as he can. “But I don’t think he is. Loki,” he pleads, turning to face his brother’s stubborn, angry profile, “you’re not a bad person. You’re _not_.”

“Pardon my bluntness but, fancy degrees aside,” Loki snarls, glaring hotly from the doctor to Thor and back again, “you’re both fucking idiots.”

~

Thor expects his brother to get the smackdown for that one. Instead, Ginny acts exactly as though nothing happened. And just maybe, from her perspective, nothing did. “I’m sorry if what I said felt threatening,” she tells Loki, and her apology sounds genuine enough. “I hope we’ll reach a point where you feel comfortable hearing our opinions – including the way we feel about you – even if you don’t always agree.”

Loki looks nonplussed. This may be the first time in his pitiful little life someone has taken his attitude full in the face and simply not reacted. 

Which, of course, is something Thor himself should try more often.

~

They get back on course. Dr. Ginny lets that particular line of reasoning go, after assuring (threatening?) Loki they will be revisiting it some point, and turns to Thor instead. “I couldn’t help but notice you had something to add, early on,” she says, still calm and pleasant. He would give a lot to have her poise. “Would you like to share it now?”

He’s not sure, not with Loki so jacked up; so recently on the warpath. He should try, though. “Um. Well, I was going to correct my brother, because he’d told me just recently that he’d deserved it. Getting punched, that is.” He shifts uncomfortably against the couch arm. “That he’d had it coming, or whatever. But- well, he told you the exact same thing he’d told me, in the end. And then went on to elaborate. So, he was consistent after all,” he adds, shrugging, “but I still disagree.”

“Thank you for being patient, then,” she tells him. “Can you summarize what you heard your brother say,” she asks, “excepting the part at the end we’ve decided to table for now?”

He stops for a moment and collects his thoughts. _Calm. Neutral._ “My brother has a black eye because one of the other day treatment clients punched him,” he begins. “The issue started a few days earlier, when the guy insulted him. The day of the incident,” he continues, trying to stick with neutral terms, “the man- um- well, to me, it seems like he tried to sexually assault Loki,” Thor says, hoping his brother won’t blast him for it, “and earned himself a knee in the jewels for his troubles.” He smiles a little. “Loki thinks that amounted to _fighting like a girl,_ but I think he actually took the smartest approach considering how he’s right-handed and has a broken wrist and all. I’m proud of him.”

“You would be,” Loki hisses before Ginny can stop him.

Thor turns to his brother. “No,” he says, earnestly, “it’s not the same thing at all. You were defending yourself, not just losing your temper. I think he did the right thing,” he reiterates, to the doctor. “But I expect I wasn’t supposed to go there. Nothing further,” he says, only just stopping himself from adding “your Honor.”

This whole thing did feel a lot like court today.

~

“Was that true,” Loki asks quietly as they walk – hand in hand, despite everything – back to the car. “Are you really proud of me?”

Thor squeezes his fingers. “Of course,” he assures his brother. “I know it’s against the rules and all, and I probably shouldn’t encourage you… but I think you did exactly the right thing,” _except for blaming yourself,_ he carefully doesn’t add, because that’s _tabled._ “Hey,” he asks, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and tugging Loki’s hand, “are you okay?”

Loki turns back to look at Thor and shrugs. “Honestly? I’ve been better.” He sighs, and Thor’s heart breaks a little. “But thank you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor comes to an important realization. Several of them, now that you mention it.

It takes an embarrassingly long time, Thor realizes afterwards, before he recognizes what's actually going on.

For five straight weeks Dr. Ginny has gently encouraged Loki to lead them through what probably amounts to his entire life history, from when he first developed a romantic interest in Thor (how had Loki put it? _My brother set the bar for hotness long before I even understood what that meant, and no one else even came close to measuring up?_ Something along those lines) through the present. In no particular order, as far as Thor can see: college, Loki's experiences as a sex worker, his drug habit, his mental health diagnosis, his jail time and inpatient treatment (both times). What day treatment is like. What he likes to read, what he likes to do. His hopes and fears and awful, awful misconceptions.

Late in the sixth session, it finally hits Thor like a ton of bricks: The doctor may be positioning this whole process as getting to know them better... but what she's _really_ doing is helping _Thor_ get to know _Loki_ better.

He's not sure he's ever felt quite this dumb before, and that's really saying something.

~

"My brother is so _interesting_ , Thor tells his own therapist a few days later. "And I feel pretty fucking awful saying I had no idea, but there you have it: _I had no idea. None._ I'm not even sure what I was thinking," he complains, exasperated with himself. "It didn't _feel_ like I was just considering him a- a part of me..." - he's not even quite sure how to put this - "but, in hindsight, it certainly does look a whole lot like that’s exactly what I was doing," _and I'm so sorry_ , he doesn't add, because he says that all the time and far, far too often nothing changes.

"How do you feel about Loki now, given all the new things you've been learning about him," the therapist asks him. "Have you found your feelings for him changing?"

Thor smiles despite the discomfort. "I still love him to pieces," he asserts, "if that's what you mean. But I also- I _like_ him more. Quite a bit more. I suppose that sounds bad." He can feel himself blushing; at least the social worker is not here to see it. "As I said," he presses on, "he's fascinating. How did I miss all this?" It's kind of a rhetorical question, true, but he wouldn't exactly kick an answer out of bed just now.

"Have you _told_ Loki that," the social worker asks instead. It's a simple question, mildly delivered, and yet it catches Thor square in the gut and knocks the wind right out of him.

"No," he breathes, not even sure why it’s so upsetting. "He doesn't take things like that well, usually."

"I really think you should tell him," his therapist advises, "however he happens to take it. Because, as much as Loki may scoff, I have to guess he's probably feeling pretty vulnerable right now."

~

True to form, on the first try he fucks it all up completely. "How come you never told _me_ any of the stuff we’ve been discussing with Ginny," he blurts out, knowing even as he's saying it that it isn’t close to what he meant to ask… not at all. As his brother stiffens, it hits him that _this? Maybe this is why Loki never takes it well._

"How about _because you never showed even the slightest interest in one single solitary fucking thing about me that you couldn't stick your dick in_ ," Loki snaps, whirling around and stomping out of the kitchen.

_Congratulations, Thor Odinson: You're an asshole,_ he tells himself, blinking back hot tears. He scoops up Loki's abandoned sandwich and trots off after his brother.

"That was completely the wrong thing to say, wasn't it," he asks the rigid, angry, hurt lines of Loki's back. His brother is standing at the big glass doors, arms crossed and jaw set, looking out across the balcony. 

"What I actually meant," Thor continues when Loki flatly ignores him, "was that I've learned so much about you recently. I feel terrible about how I wasn't there for you when you needed- needed someone," he says, faltering a little as he tries to make this _not all about himself_ , "but even more than that... you're right, you know? You are so goddamned smart. I've missed a lot, brother," he tells Loki, not at all sure he isn't just making everything worse. "I don't want to miss any more."

Ultimately he just gives in and plain old admits it: "My therapist says I should tell you what I told him - that, the more I learn about you, the more and more and more I like you. Anyway," he says, finally admitting defeat in the face of Loki’s stony silence, "here's your sandwich, baby." He sets it carefully on the dresser and turns to go.

~

When he peeks in later, the plate – still where he left it - is empty of all but a few crumbs and a long smear of mustard. Loki is out on the balcony, on one of the chaises, curled in a little ball. From the bedroom doorway Thor can't quite tell if his brother is crying.

He goes back in to the kitchen and grabs two bottles of ginger ale - the good stuff; they found a great little place here a few weeks ago that makes its own – from the refrigerator and a bottle opener from the junk drawer. "I brought you something to drink," he offers, cracking the glass door open. "May I join you?"

"It's a free country," Loki says, shrugging slightly. His tone doesn't match the sharp words, though, and he sounds clogged and wet; as though he's been full-on bawling.

Thor lets himself the rest of the way out onto the balcony, pushing the door open with an elbow. He pops the cap off his own ginger ale, puts the bottle on the table, then leans over Loki to set the second bottle and the opener down on the concrete beside his brother's lounge chair. "Here you go," he says softly. When Loki doesn't answer, Thor lowers himself onto the second chaise with a soft grunt and sits - as patiently as he can - sipping his beverage.

He's more than halfway through the bottle when Loki shifts. "Why do you like me," his brother asks. It's only a little question but Loki's voice is small and raw and to Thor the whole thing feels fucking enormous.

"You're incredibly smart," he says carefully. He's not sure there is much more room for error here; not at this fragile juncture. "You see so many things I simply don't notice. You face a lot of struggles I can't even begin to understand and yet you get up every day and do what you need to do. I enjoy seeing the world through your eyes," he adds softly, "when you let me. And, yes," he says with a quiet huff of laughter, "you're hot enough to boil water. But you're so much more than that." And then he shuts up, because he's _gushing_ and he feels idiotic. Sentimental.

Everything Loki despises.

But when his brother finally twists to look at him, nose pink and eyes puffy, all Loki says is "thank you."

Thor only nods. His throat is impossibly tight; there's no way speaking will go well. Instead he leans over and gently kisses Loki's temple, tucking a wayward bit of hair behind the closer ear. He clears his throat carefully - he's far too close to risk being unforgiveably loud, not with Loki like this - and manages "soda?"

Loki snuffs. "Can you open it? Working the opener is still fucking hard with this stupid thing," he grumbles, raising his cast and letting it drop hard against his thigh.

Thor does, glowing a little inside about how his brother _just asked for help like it was nothing._

"Thanks." Loki takes a long pull of his drink, and then another. How he does that without belching like a pig Thor will _never_ get, if he lives to be a hundred. "What am I going to do," his brother asks out of nowhere, "when day treatment is done?"

"Like, a job, you mean," Thor asks, trying his best to sound as if they're discussing- washing the dishes. Something boring. In reality the idea is both exhilarating and terrifying. Loki rarely at best talks as though there might be a future out ahead of them. Of him.

"Right," Loki confirms, and his tone is a little brittle. "I can't just sit here and eat bon-bons.

"Well," Thor tells him, smiling, "here's one thing I learned the hard way: Try to figure out what you _want_ to do first." It's not that Loki has to deal with Odin's pressure now, not like he himself did. Still, Thor was never given the tools to come to that sort of understanding. He can't imagine Loki fared much better. "What did mom and dad want you to do," he asks, suddenly curious. "When you grew up, I mean."

"Die," Loki says flatly.

Thor- well, he can feel his heart _breaking._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get both better and worse, in unexpected ways.

“Oh god, yes. Yes. Just like that. Good. Good. Oh _FUCK_ , Thor, _YES_.”

Thor has Loki folded neatly in two, with his own powerful fingers dug in just above the backs of his brother’s knees and Loki’s heels drumming ungently his ribs somewhere below the shoulders. Loki’s hips are way up off the bed, his back mostly up on Thor’s big thighs. They’re both slippery with sweat. Loki’s hair is everywhere.

There’s a purpose to this, there is. Thor’s doing his level best to cheer Loki up with a good hard fucking and, from the sound of things, it’s working.

Okay, now that you mention it, he’s feeling a bit better himself, too.

Words degrade to babble; babble degrades to screaming. Shortly thereafter Loki comes, back arching up off Thor’s knees and mouth open in a silent, teeth-bared howl that could be pleasure or pain or both. Thor feels his brother’s body spasming around his own cock; it’s difficult, really difficult, to hold up but he knows he ought to. He needs to know things are okay. He does.

“Do you want- me to stop,” he asks, sucking wind. “I don’t want- to hurt you.” His brother’s ribs heave like a set of bellows, but he manages to grin anyway.

“No, keep going. Now. Fuck,” Loki pants, and Thor’s not sure if it’s instructions or just an exclamation.

He doesn’t have to be told twice, regardless. It doesn’t take long anyway.

Afterwards he pulls carefully out, wincing as Loki whines. “Are you alright?” While Thor doesn’t think he let himself get too carried away, he does have to admit it’s a little hard to think clearly when he’s balls-deep in his brother’s hot, pliant body.

“Fine. Good, even. A little sticky, though,” Loki says, still breathing hard. “Thank you.”

Thor grins. “I would say _the pleasure was all mine_ but that’s clearly not the case.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Loki says drily. Odds are good his brother is just teasing but Thor can’t let something like that go; he reaches down to scoop a messy fingerful of semen from Loki’s ribs and wipes it sloppily on the tip of its rightful owner’s nose.

Loki violently thrashes his head back and forth, shrieking like a girl. “What,” Thor asks, pretend-innocently. “It was yours. I just gave it back to you.”

It turns out they’re not too winded to wrestle after all. By the time they’re done, they both really need a shower. The sheets, though, need changing even more.

Thor stretches across his brother and raps his knuckles gently on the cast. “I will be so glad when this is gone,” he says. “If I had a dollar for every time you’ve accidentally smacked me in the head with it during sex, I could quit my job,” he complains, laughing.

“ _Accidentally?_ ” Loki is laughing as well. “What makes you think it’s accidental?”

They already need a shower. Thor sees no reason not to pin his brother down and wash that pointy little face, hockey-style, with its own mess.

It turns out there is a reason, though; Loki bites.

~

“This is going to be a little hard to explain at work on Monday,” Thor tells his brother over dinner, turning his own hand over and back again. The bruised semicircle on the back of his hand sports clear tooth-marks; the one on his palm, even more so.

Loki smirks “You haven’t told them you live with a nutjob,” he asks, what sounds like a little nastily.

“No, actually, I haven’t,” Thor points out. “I don’t think of you that way.” He frowns. “I wish you didn’t either.”

“From your lips to god’s ears,” his brother mocks, still smirking.

At that, though, Thor can’t quite help but laugh. “In the highly unlikely event god’s listening to either of us, Loki, you probably scorched his ears clean off earlier.”

Loki grins. This smile looks a lot more genuine. “Was I that loud? I hope Sif doesn’t mind living next door to reality porn.”

Thor’s not willing to let himself be steered off course quite so easily. “Seriously, though, I wish you were less critical of yourself. Saying things like that constantly can’t be helping you feel good.” He knows Loki thinks _therapy platitudes_ like this are a little dumb but he keeps saying them anyway. Something’s bound to sink in eventually.

His phone buzzes. Sighing loudly, he pulls the thing out of his pocket. _Shit._ He signals _shh_ and answers on the third ring. “Hi, dad, what’s up?” He knows it’s rude to take calls in a restaurant – he wasn’t raised in a barn, honest – but they’re back in a relatively secluded, quiet corner and Thor just doesn’t think it would be smart to take this one outside. Not with Loki here.

_I received two pieces of disturbing news today,_ Odin starts off. Thor feels the adrenaline kick in. _Both of them were made even more disturbing, Thor Odinson, by the fact I didn’t hear them directly from you._

“Oh?” Thor does his best to sound calmly interested. “What would those be?” He’s certainly not going to be tricked into offering up information his father hasn’t come across on his own. Shrugging helplessly, he looks across the table at his brother. Loki rolls his eyes.

_Don’t play games with me._ Odin makes a disdainful little sound. _You’re too cowardly to tell me yourself, then. Is that what this is about?_ He sounds angry, and probably more than a little drunk. Thor has never before been quite this glad he’s five solid hours away.

“No, dad,” he says carefully. “I’m just not sure what you mean.” There are a variety of possibilities, after all.

None of which is good, sure, but still...

_Well, for starters,_ Odin growls, _I was told today that your brother is alive after all, despite your touchingly earnest claims to the contrary. And I suppose that comes as little surprise to you,_ he goes on without leaving time for a reply, _because his last known address just so happens to be exactly the same as yours._

Thor quickly considers his options. Lying close to the truth is probably still the best one. “No, you’re right. He does live here with me,” he says, holding up a _shh!_ finger again as Loki’s mouth drops open. He wants to explain that he didn’t tell Odin because it didn’t seem like something his father would want to know, but his years in court have long since taught him that volunteering information far too seldom goes unpunished.

_It’s a good thing your mother is dead,_ Odin half-yells, and that’s really starting to cross the line. _Everything she did for you, and this is how you choose to repay her?_

Thor squeezes his eyelids tight shut and counts to twenty. “I’m sorry, dad, but I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. Have a good evening. Goodbye,” he adds, as politely as he can, and then ends the call. As he sets the phone down on the table, he abruptly realizes his head hurts and his hands are shaking.

The stupid thing rings again, buzzing loudly against the wood. He and Loki lock eyes for a long moment. Thor sends the call straight to voicemail.

It’s got to be close to two minutes before either of them speaks. Finally, Loki says “he’s made me,” in a small, tight voice. In that instant, Thor could probably kill his father.

“No, baby, there’s nothing to make. Not anymore. You’re legal,” he says, swallowing the last dregs of his anger and trying for _supportive and reassuring_. “Someone told him you were alive, and gave him my address as yours. Which, of course, makes sense, because my address _is_ yours.” Thor stops for a second; he knows he’s babbling nervously. “Anyway, he’s drunk. He just wanted to make me feel bad.”

“Why did you hang up on him? What did he say?” Loki’s eyes burn into Thor’s.

“He took a dig at me that involved mother,” Thor concedes. “It pissed me off.” He shrugs again, then picks up his fork and pokes idly at the remains of dinner. “Let’s not let him ruin our evening.”

Loki steals a sweet potato fry and dips it in Thor’s sauce. “Is it wrong,” he asks quietly, “for me to say I hate him?”

Thor offers him a second fry. Loki takes it in one big bite, teeth grazing Thor’s fingers; Thor lets him. “No,” he says after a moment. “I don’t think it’s wrong at all.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki bring Sif up to speed.

"Look, you both know I love you guys to pieces," Sif pleads, "but could you maybe _try_ not to fuck _on_ the balcony? For me?"

Thor and his brother exchange a look; Loki nods once, sharply. "Um," Thor leads off, "we weren't."

Loki grins. "We weren't _on the balcony,_ ” he cuts in as Sif starts to beg to differ. “We were actually on the bed, if you must know." He cocks one nicely-groomed black eyebrow. "In fact, the balcony doors were closed. Weren't they, brother?"

Thor's ears feel hot, and his neck. "They were," he confirms to Sif, shrugging a little. "The place was all buttoned up," he adds, too uncomfortable to pick his words quite carefully enough. Loki's loud snort doesn't help at all, either. "Were we too loud? I'm sorry."

"It wasn't so much _you,_ personally,-" she tells him, smirking.

Loki cuts her off, still grinning mischievously. "Take my word for it, Sif - had he been doing to you what he was doing to me, _you'd_ have been screaming too."

"Enough," Thor admonishes.

"We should go with the ball gag next-," Loki suggests, tone cheerfully conversational.

"ENOUGH, I said," Thor says very loudly. Several other patrons turn to look at them. Loki and Sif giggle most unhelpfully.

"Shh," his brother stage-whispers. "People are _eating._ "

Sif does her best to don a straight face. "It's not even on my own behalf that I’m asking, honestly,” she tells Thor. “In my opinion, the two of you are a hell of a lot cheaper than pay-per-view." With the tip of one finger she draws squiggly lines in the condensation on the side of her root beer mug. "Steve's- I guess you could say he's a little old-fashioned." She winces. "I wasn't supposed to tell you he was the one who’d brought it up. Don’t blow me in."

Thor bristles. "I thought you said he was fine with us," he points out, sharp and a little accusing." He reaches for Loki's left hand.

"What? Oh, wait, no no no," Sif offers quickly. "It's not that. It was only that- that he- he was just a little funny about the idea of fucking loudly on the balcony, in broad daylight, where anyone could see. Honest," she insists, pleading again. "He's exactly the same way about me."

"Oh, you poor dear," Loki gushes, laying it on thick. "So sorry!" And then he loses his shit entirely and has to smother his laughter against Thor's shoulder.

"Seriously," Thor tells her- well, seriously. He nudges Loki off his shoulder, reinforcing his message with a nice glare. "We _are_ sorry." He knows better than to add _aren't we, Loki?_ "We really didn’t mean to be rude. We'll try to be more considerate." He's doing his best to be a grown-up, honest.

"Can you hear us when we go at it in the kitchen," Loki asks Sif brightly. "The pots and pans should drown me out. Next time we can do a sound check? I'll call your cell?"

"Jesus, Loki," Thor starts to say, but Sif is full-on laughing and there just isn't any point to it.

~

"Okay, that’s more than enough of that frivolity," Sif says, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. The three of them have finally all but stopped with what turned out to be a horribly contagious gigglefest. Thor’s sides hurt from laughing "You mentioned when you called that you wanted to talk about something important. In person." She looks closely at each of them in turn, searching their faces. "I somehow doubt it was Olympic Pot Rack Gymnastics."

Loki takes his hand back, but just to pick at his nails. "After you," he prompts, not laughing this time.

Thor swallows a big mouthful of salad. "Odin called," he says, without preamble. “Last night. In the middle of dinner.”

"Ugh. And," Sif prods, expression suddenly turned apprehensive. Every last bit of humor is gone from her face.

"And he knows about Loki," Thor tells her, nodding in acknowledgement at her whispered _oh, shit._ "We aren't sure quite how much," he goes on. "But Odin has found out that my brother isn't dead and that- that we're roommates."

"What's he going to do," she asks quietly. "Your fa- _Odin_ , I mean," she corrects herself, sticking with Thor's wording.

He laughs, even though it's not funny. "I don't know, actually." He slings an arm across Loki's shoulders. "I hung up on him."

She looks shocked and he almost feels offended. "Really? Good for you,” she exclaims. “I’m impressed. I mean it, too.” Now he _does_ feel offended but, before he can fire back, she’s moved on to his brother and the moment has passed. “Are you okay, baby," she asks, ducking a little to peer up into Loki's downturned face.

"I can't say I'm thrilled," his brother tells the table. Thor can feel him vibrating. "I don't trust him not to- not to fuck things up for me."

"I’d like to see him try," Sif growls through clenched teeth. "I mean it," she insists as Thor tries to shush her. "Bring it on. He doesn't have all his fancy-pants _political connections_ and _mutual favors_ to protect him here." She takes a big gulp of root beer. Unlike Loki, too, she burps. "Plus, Steve was in the service," she adds. "He knows people."

His brother shivers; Thor can feel the tremor against his own arm. “Thank you for sticking up for me,” Loki tells her, and it sounds earnest enough. “But if it’s all the same to both of you I’d rather just not have to deal with him at all.”

Something in his brother’s voice – in his reaction, for that matter – just feels _off_. “Baby?” He runs quickly back over some of their recent discussions in therapy, digging unsuccessfully for a clue. “Wait. Did he _hurt_ you?” He gives Loki a gentle squeeze.

“I’d rather not talk about it, actually, if that’s okay with you.”

It isn’t. Still, despite their gentle prying, it doesn’t take long for Thor to realize he and Sif have already heard exactly everything Loki has to say on the matter.

~

She corners Thor at the end of the meal, when his brother is off using the men’s room. “You don’t actually think Odin will come looking for you here, do you?” Sif is strong; her fingers dig almost painfully into the muscles of his forearm.

“I wouldn’t put much of anything past him these days,” Thor warns, and he means it. “Ever since mom died, he’s been drinking a lot more than anyone should.” It’s part of why he agreed to leave town, really – his father’s behavior, even before the mess in the bar, had been increasingly erratic. Dangerous. “Sometimes he scares me.”

~

A week goes by, though, and Odin doesn’t call again. Or – and this is what they’re all really dreading, Thor is pretty certain – show up out of nowhere. One week stretches into two, and then three. By the time Loki’s cast is ready to come off, the whole thing is starting to look like nothing more than a false fucking alarm. _Who knows_ , Thor thinks after a long discussion with his own therapist: _Maybe Odin doesn’t even remember calling._

~

“How long is this going to take,” Loki asks for at least the fourth time as the orthopedic resident gamely wields the cutter. “That sound is fucking killing me.”

“Language, Loki,” Thor adds reflexively… and then apologizes immediately, because (he’s definitely not Loki’s mother, and) the sound is grating on him as well. He wishes Sif was here. She would find someone who knew how to do this properly. Not to mention efficiently.

~

“Gross,” Loki complains when the cast is finally lying empty on the table. “It stinks,” he grumbles, looking at Thor with daintily wrinkled nose, “and it hurts, too. Oww,” he adds, trying with limited success to rotate his wrist and look at the underside. A twist in the opposite direction is even less successful: “Fuck,” Loki breathes, face several degrees whiter than usual. “Is it supposed to feel _worse_ now than it did originally?”

The doctor inspects Loki’s wrist, moving it slowly this way and that while its owner grunts in pain. They all study the xray, an old-fashioned film plate, clipped up on one of those battered metal light boxes that feature prominently in most crime dramas. “It looks good, actually,” the doctor assures Loki, “and you have good range of motion. Unfortunately, it’s going to hurt until it’s fully healed.”

“Awesome,” Loki says, dry and more than a little hostile.

“Do you need a prescription for it? For the pain, I mean. I can write you something,” the resident continues, blissfully unaware he’s about to be shredded. Thor cringes. Once upon a time he would have spoken up on his brother’s behalf; these days, he’s just as happy not to.

“Silly me. I would have expected basic literacy to be a necessity when it came to Medical School graduation,” Loki says, rather than answering.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor says, clearly puzzled. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Can you _read_ ,” Loki snaps. He looks his wrist over once more, rubbing delicately over the little bones with the long fingers of his other hand, and then crosses his arms. Doing so costs him – Thor can read the tension in his brother’s posture, in the lines of his face – but Loki holds his position regardless. “Can. You-,” he starts again when the doctor doesn’t answer.

“Yes, of course,” the resident says, a little huffy now. From the look on his face Loki is finally starting to rub him raw.

“Then here’s a radical idea: Read my chart.” Loki bares his teeth. “And then offer me something that’s actually fucking useful.”

~

In the end, they go home with a prescription for physical therapy, a cold pack, and a soft adjustable brace. Thor figures, all told, they can count this as a win.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already decided you hate Babes!Odin...

"What happened," Thor asks his brother again once they're safely back home. Alone, in the dim, decidedly unpeaceful quiet of their kitchen.

"With Odin?" Loki looks away. "I thought I made it reasonably clear I didn't want to talk about it."

Thor sighs. "You did. It's just- well, if he hurt you, you shouldn't have to carry that alone." That reasoning never works very well, not with Loki, but he means it wholeheartedly so he offers it up anyway. "And I should probably have at least some basic idea what went on, in case he _does_ show up here, you know?"

Loki braces against the kitchen counter, palms flat on the granite and head hanging. Thor watches his brother's back shift with each breath. It isn't until Loki speaks, after breath number sixteen, that Thor realizes he's been counting each one of them.

"Why didn't you come for me, after I got out of the nuthouse," Loki asks quietly.

“Why?” Thor’s not sure if his brother’s question is somehow meant to be an answer. "I didn't know where you were," he tries. It's true, as far as it goes, but it's not enough. Not if he's asking his brother to share something so personal. "And I was angry," he confesses. "Angry that you went and tried to kill yourself without even asking me for help first. Without even dropping a hint. Without even _talking_ to me."

He feels surprisingly nauseated thinking back to that awful time, considering it all happened so long ago. "I was worried about you, and I- I would have done everything in my power to find a way to help you. But no, you were- you were so fucking selfish. I'm sorry," Thor offers quickly when Loki flinches away from his rapidly rising voice. "I didn't mean to yell.” He doesn’t apologize for what he said, because that _was_ how he felt. _Is. Feels_ , at least a little, even now. “I just- I was so afraid I'd lost you, and then it turned out you _wanted_ to go. You wanted to leave me."

"No," Loki says, and his voice is shaking. "I wanted to stop the pain. I suppose the nice thing to say would be _I never wanted to leave you_ but, to be honest, by that point I’m pretty sure you weren't even on my radar."

That's okay. Thor doesn't want _nice;_ he wants the truth. "When I came to see you, you acted like you hated me," he throws back. He remembers it all too clearly: the smell of the place, the chipped plastic furniture, his brother's sharp accusations of rape. Thor shudders. The foot of floor between them feels like half the universe.

"Preemptive strike," Loki says, shrugging. His head is still down, what little of his face Thor might otherwise see obscured by the dark fall of hair. "After what Odin had sa-." He stops abruptly. "Fuck, Thor." His hands shift, gripping the counter's edge like claws. Every line of his body is rigid. Wound tight. “I said-… _Fuck_.”

It hits Thor belatedly that maybe they shouldn't be talking about this alone. Together, but alone. Well, it's too late now. "What," he presses. "What did he tell you?"

"He told me you knew about me - about how I was _a filthy worthless cock-sucking faggot_... which, of course, you did," his brother notes with a mirthless laugh, "…and all that jazz - and- he-," Loki's voice breaks and he has to stop for what feels like the better part of a half a minute. "He told me you wished I had done a better job of it. That you said I deserved to die."

"WHAT?!", Thor squawks. "No!" As angry as he was about everything then, he is still at least a thousand percent certain he never said anything remotely like that. Never. "And he never even talked to me anyway. Except once or twice to nag me to see you. Wait." What his brother'd just said finally sinks all the way in. "How did he know you were gay?" They'd been as careful as two horny young adults could be, and then some. "God, Loki, did I get you in trouble?"

Loki snuffles wetly and Thor wants to go to him, but the impossible stiffness of his brother’s thin frame is always a warning. "No, I got myself in trouble. Right after you left for school, I got sloppy. I wasn't holding it together too well by then, I suppose," Loki explains. "He caught me jerking off to that one porno, the one that-."

"-looked like you and me," Thor near-whispers. "I remember." Surprisingly enough, he does. Very clearly, too; he can remember the computer, the sheets, the way the bed smelled like his hopelessly tempting little brother. "Ugh,” he grunts, meaning the situation and not the video. Not Loki. “What did he do?"

"It was in the den. You had your computer at school with you. I didn't hear him come home." Loki swallows loudly. "He yanked me out of the chair by my ankle," he tells Thor. "I hit my head on the desk - I remember the blood running into my eye. My mouth. And then he kicked me in the side so hard he cracked a bunch of my ribs."

Thor tries and fails to stifle a gasp.

"I don't remember all the details after that," Loki says, still clinging to the edge of the counter like a wild bird. "But he said a lot of horrible things to me. Basically it all amounted to the same thing: that I was a blight on society and I should do everyone a favor and end it. End myself. Of course," he goes on before Thor can even begin to summon up some kind of comment, "I was already thinking along those lines anyway."

"Holy shit, Loki." It's not very helpful but he's just stunned. "Didn't mom-?"

"All the yelling woke her up. Odin told her I'd gotten in a fight. Something like that, I think. I don't remember much of what happened from then on; only how I woke up in the morning in the hospital.” He snuffles again. "Mom was somewhere else. I asked for you. Odin told me you’d refused to come."

“What,” Thor exclaims again, because he is pretty much speechless. “No. I never- he never-.” He can’t spit it the stupid thought out, but it’s desperately important to him that- that he can convince his brother to- to believe him. “They never told me,” he manages to force out at last. “They never- I don’t think they even called me. I might have spoken to mom once between when they drove me to school and when- when-.” He can’t say it.

“When I did society a favor,” Loki finishes bluntly.

Thor doesn’t trust himself to speak. There’s just too much emotion raging through him – all the pain, all the terror, all the anger – and the force of the flood is suffocating. Instead he reaches out a trembling hand and carefully, gently lays it flat against his brother’s back.

_Please don’t push me away. Please._

He holds his breath, but the explosion doesn’t come. Instead Loki whirls towards him and buries a very wet face in the crook of his neck.

“Shh,” Thor soothes as best he can, his own voice raw with pain. Loki clings to him like Thor is the only spar in the river. There’s nothing he can do to help his brother. Nothing.

It’s one of the worst things he’s ever felt. Helpless, hopeless. He can’t even get past it to the place where the part of him that wants to kill Odin is waiting.

~

They stand like that a while, long enough that his back starts to cramp up, Loki clinging tight and Thor gently stroking up and down his brother’s ribs. Every now and then Loki chokes out a strangled sob; each time, Thor holds him a little tighter. Carefully, delicately, but a little tighter just the same. To comfort, not to hurt. Loki has had far too much of hurting.

When he finally reaches a point where it feels like he can safely talk again, Thor deliberately thinks first and then chooses his words with the utmost caution. “I never wanted you dead, brother, never. I hope you believe me.”

Loki laughs, the sound dark and ugly. Bitter. “Odin would say I made all this up,” he rasps. “To play you. To take advantage of your caring nature.’

 _That’s where you’re wrong,_ Thor thinks. _That man would never accuse me of having a caring nature._ “I’m dead certain I’ve never given less of a shit what Odin would say,” he offers instead, twisting to press a kiss into his brother’s neck. “I believe you. And it makes me sick that you had to go through all this alone.”

“I’m not alone now,” Loki says against Thor’s shoulder.

“No, baby, that you’re not,” Thor assures him. “I’m here.”


End file.
